


The one where Namjoon has a daughter

by Silas_Frost



Category: bts
Genre: ALL THE FLUFF, Adoption, Fluff, One Shot, namjoon makes a good dad, offscreen minor character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-01-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:46:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22104286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silas_Frost/pseuds/Silas_Frost
Summary: Namjoon is a widower with a young daughter.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 16





	The one where Namjoon has a daughter

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by a set of pics my friend shared with me getting me thinking about Namjoon being a dad, and what if he had a tiny little daughter, and what if his wife died and he was a single dad and how cute and tragic it would be! Mostly cute. Just a little tragic.  
> It’s in chronological order, but written as ideas came to me.  
> I hope you like it.

Namjoon and his little girl, walking along the deserted beach at dawn because neither of them can sleep. The sadness overcomes them and the house gets too claustrophobic, so they go down to the ocean, where there’s nothing hemming them, for miles. They say nothing. All you can hear is the water as it gently runs up the shore, slowly waking up with the sun. As the sky brightens, so do their moods. The crabs begin to come out, first just one, and only Namjoon sees it, and it brings a soft smile to his face and he turns that smile on his daughter to watch her little toes scrunch the sand, and he just feels so grateful to have her—she’s perfect. She’s maybe three, or four, idk. 

Then she spots a crab, and excitedly tugs on the hem of his shirt. “Daddy! Daddy, look!” And from there they see many more crabs and try to catch them and the silent morning is then filled with laughter and glee. 

And when it’s time, he tosses her up on his shoulders and they walk home, no longer feeling oppressed by the house full of silence, full of memories. Namjoon makes breakfast, and his daughter colors pictures of crabs at the table. They’re both happy. 

For now. 

And that’s enough. 

For now.

He teaches her poetry and maths, and history, but struggles with science because his wife loved science. They turn science lessons into cooking lessons because she loved to cook. He gets up on mornings they’re going to do science and stares out his bedroom window (which of course looks out at the sea) and talks to her. Asking for her help. Begging her to get him through this because he just feels so lost. “It should be you,” he says, “teaching her this. Not me. I’m... I’m terrible at this. Remember the time I burned water?” He laughs, but only so he won’t cry.

It’s been a couple years. 

They find a dog on the beach with fur the same color as her hair. Hannah begs her dad to keep it. It’s dirty and matted and who knows how old, and Namjoon looks at it skeptically, but Hannah’s big, pleading eyes are too much for him. Plus it brings much needed life to the house. The dog sleeps with Hannah, easing the nightmares she has had since her mom passed, but didn’t want to talk about because she wanted to be strong. The dog follows her everywhere. 

One morning Hannah wakes up sick—just a cold—and the dog goes to Namjoon’s room, pulling him out of bed, pulling him by the hand to Hannah’s room. “Good dog,” he says after he’s tended to his daughter and she’s been fed and warmed and taken care of.

Hannah’s twelve. She’s happy and brilliant and beautiful—the center of Namjoon’s whole world. She’s strong and spirited, and he sees so much of his wife in her it hurts sometimes. She’s old enough now, it’s time. He opens the drawer in his dresser, the one he hates and loves to open because it’s filled with  _ her.  _ He takes out a small box, letting a wave of grief wash over him before he shuts the drawer again. Hannah’s outside, on the beach playing with Hope (the dog). 

“Hannah!” he calls out as he approaches. “Baby girl, come here!” She and Hope run to him. Her smile is blinding and he smiles back, misty-eyed. “This was your Mom’s. Her favorite. She wore it all the time.”

Hannah opens the box. Inside is a necklace with a clamshell-shaped pendant with a pink pearl in it. It’s pretty, and she loves it. 

It’s her mom's birthday and she’s forgotten, but Namjoon hasn’t. It hurts a little, but he wants her to be happy. And she is. So happy. Namjoon goes back inside and cries.

Hannah’s been in bed for a while now, and Namjoon watches the sea as he drinks a glass of wine—her favorite. 

“Dad!” Hannah’s shout alarms him. “Dad!” She’s definitely crying. “Daddy!” They collide in the hallway, as he picks her up in his arms. She even went to bed wearing the clamshell necklace. Hannah sobs. “Daddy! I forgot! I forgot it was today! I forgot her!” She cries on his shoulder, but he has no words, only soft hands to soothe her with, and strong arms to hold her, until she has cried herself out. He carries her back to her room in silence. “I forgot her, daddy. How could I forget her birthday?”

It’s been years since they were up at dawn, walking along the beach, but it’s exactly what’s needed after their sad, sleepless night. He wishes he could carry her on his shoulders still, but she’s grown up so much. Her melancholy is hard to chase away, until Hope finds a piece of driftwood and they play together, throwing the stick and watching the dog bound through sand and waves, always running back to them with a wagging tail. 

  
Hope is getting old. She doesn’t run after Hannah anymore, and can barely manage the steps down from the house to the beach, but she tries. She tries so hard. Namjoon always has to carry her back up the steps when they go back to the house. Their walks are much shorter now. Everyone knows Hope doesn’t have much time left, but Hannah is in denial. She’s sixteen, in high school, and has been spending more time talking to her friends and a boy she’s “definitely not interested in! Dad, I don’t even like him. He’s still fifteen, dad. Gross.” Namjoon wishes he could protect her from losing such a good friend, but the dog isn’t sick, just old. 

Hannah gets home from school, but Hope isn’t at the door to greet her like she always is. She’s on her cushion by the fireplace, in which Namjoon has built a nice warm fire even though it’s nearing summer, and not remotely cold. Hope’s eyes stare up at Hannah, but she doesn’t move her head. Her tail thumps weakly. 

“DAD!” Hannah shouts in distress, kneeling next to the dog trying to pet her and love her into feeling better. Namjoon hurries to her. He’s been dreading this all day. 

“She’s been waiting for you,” he says softly. “I’m sorry, baby girl. I wish there was something I could do.”

Namjoon holds his daughter and she holds her dog for the last time. They bury her and build a bonfire on the beach. Namjoon invites Hannah’s friends to come and they all mourn together. He stays inside, watching from his bedroom window, talking to his wife. 

“I’m not going!” Hannah shouts, stomping to her room, but shutting the door gently because she knows better than to slam it. Namjoon’s concern prompts him to follow. He knocks on the door but receives no answer. 

“Honey, why not?” He says through the door. “It’s prom! I thought all the girls wanted to be asked to prom?”

“It’s stupid!” Her voice is muffled by the pillow she has over her face. “It’s just a dumb tradition. Who cares!”

“That’s not what you said last week.” Namjoon frowns. “Don’t you like this boy?”

Hannah opens the door to let her dad in saying, “yes, I like him!” only to flop face down onto her bed again. 

“Then what’s the problem?”

“I can’t dance.”

“You know who can dance?” he grins. 

Her dad pulls her out of bed to the kitchen where he sets out a bowl of strawberries. For every step she gets right, he gives her a strawberry. He teaches her the basic box step first. Every night for the next two weeks, they dance after dinner. Hannah goes to bed smiling every night, too. Her dad is the best dad. 

Prom is fantastic. Hannah’s dress is beautiful. She looks stunning in it, and grins ear to ear in her pictures with her date, a cocky young upstart (according to Namjoon) named Jungkook. But he has her home by curfew, and Namjoon definitely doesn’t spy through the curtains to see him give her a goodnight kiss on the cheek. Hannah comes through the front door positively floating. 

“Dance with me, dad,” she says all aglow. 

How could he refuse?

Despite her mom not being in the picture, it was still her favorite. Of course, being just a baby, she didn’t remember that day, but it was still one of her best memories. Dad looking so relaxed, even without seeing his face, she could tell he was happy. And herself, sitting there on the beach blanket yawning at her mom behind the camera. Just a day together on the beach as a family. The last one, according to her dad, before mom got too sick to go out. The last perfect day. 

Hannah was sure there were other really good days in her future, but her mom wouldn’t be there. No matter who else came into her life, her mom, her mother, wouldn’t be there. It just wouldn’t be the same. 

And when it made her too sad, she’d find her dad, sit really close next to him, and just lean her head on his shoulder. He was never too busy to drop what he was doing, wrap his long arms around her, and give her a warm, comforting hug. Often they’d go down to the beach then, just to walk, or sit in the sand. A good day, but never a perfect day. There would never be another perfect day.

“Hi sweetie.”

It’s Sunday night, and Hannah calls her dad every Sunday night. It’s her first year away at college and Namjoon misses her something fierce, but he only says it casually, right before they hang up their weekly phone calls. He doesn’t want her to worry about him, or feel bad for going to university overseas. They both know it’s a fantastic opportunity. 

Hannah misses her dad so much. She instigated the calls, and now it’s just routine. She’s comforted by the fact that he’s always there, always ready to listen and help her with problems and tell her about what’s been going on. They usually talk for a couple hours, and when he says he misses her, she swallows her tears and says “I miss you too, dad.” And after they hang up she cries for a few minutes, ends with a sniffle, and gets back to her homework. It’s just her first year. She’s allowed to be homesick.

Normally she would have called by now. Normally it was always a phone call first thing. At least by nine. But it was noon, and he still hadn’t heard from her. It was a bittersweet feeling. She had grown up so much, had a life of her own, and didn’t need him as much as she used to. Namjoon was so proud of her, but he missed her, too. It was his birthday, dammit. 

He sighed after looking at his phone again. No missed calls. No texts. Not even an email. Busying himself in the kitchen to fix lunch, he missed the crunch of sand beneath car tires out front, the sliding and slamming of doors. 

He did not miss, however, the magpie that flew in front of his kitchen window. A rare sight for the beach. It perched on the back railing, seemed to look right at him, chirped, and flew off again. Namjoon smiled. 

He smiled even more, abandoning his meal, when he heard the front door open. A cacophony of squeals and groans and shoes being kicked off filled the house. 

“Happy birthday, grandpa!” his grandsons squealed as they leapt into his arms for a hug. 

“Thank you, Jimin!” he said with a kiss to the boy’s head, and then the other. “Thank you, Hobi!”

Namjoon looked up to see Hannah smiling down at the sight, looking tired, but happy. Behind her, Jungkook carried all the suitcases, unwilling to make more than one trip. The boy—man, he corrected himself—was always taking on challenges of strength, like he had something to prove to himself, rather than anyone else. He managed to get them all through the door and set them down gently. He smiled proudly, the pride softening as he ducked his head to greet his father-in-law. 

“Happy birthday, dad,” Hannah said as the boys rushed out the back door to the beach, trailed by their father. 

“Thanks, honey.” She still fit perfectly under his chin as they came together for a hug. 

It was a surprise, the best kind. The best gift he could ask for. 

The empty nest phenomenon was too great a burden for Namjoon. It was one thing when his daughter was away at college, but now that she had Jungkook and the boys, her own family… They just couldn’t come around as often. The house was lonely. And no matter how often he stared at the ocean, talking to his long-passed wife, the feeling, the need to fill the house was too great. First he adopted a dog, and that helped for a while. The nice lady at the shelter had been all too happy to set him up with one of their most difficult breeds to find homes for. Namjoon figured his house on the beach would be plenty of room for something larger that needed the space to run around, but had no idea that he’d be coming home with a Great Dane. The beast of a dog had been abandoned by its owners when it wouldn’t stop growing, but after a few weeks with Namjoon, he was sweet and affectionate, and loyal. Best of all, to Namjoon, he was calm, not to mention patient with his grandsons. Teddy was a good companion, and he helped ease the solitude, but after a while, Namjoon still felt the desire for something else. 

When Hannah had first suggested fostering, Namjoon had been against the idea. That was more than he wanted from his silver years of life. His daughter didn’t bring it up again, but it didn’t matter; the seed had been planted. 

Tae and Jin were not blood brothers, but they had been together at the orphanage long enough to call themselves such. They were both exceedingly polite, wicked smart, and goofy when they were alone together. They were just a few years from aging out of the system and being dumped on the street with anything they owned—which wasn’t much—and nothing else. So it was overwhelming gratitude they felt when Namjoon brought them home, together. It was a six month commitment and Namjoon could send them back at the end if he didn’t think it would work out, so they tried to be good. He seemed nice; his house was amazing and they got to spend a lot of time on the beach; and Tae loved Teddy to no end. 

Namjoon couldn’t help but love them. Bringing two teenaged boys into his home was quite the shock to his routine, but all he seemed to do was gush about them to Hannah. Things they learned, or things they taught him. How big they were growing. How much they ate. How well they were learning to cook, which was good since his cooking skills had not improved any over the years. Six months came and went without even the possibility of sending them away. 

Namjoon watches them run around on the beach with Teddy, so reminiscent of Hannah and Hope decades earlier, as he stands in his bedroom. “They’re the sons we never had,” he‘d say. “Tae is mischievous and gets into more than his share of trouble, and Jin is goofy—he reminds me so much of you when we first met! Hannah loves them. They’re great with the boys. I love them. I know you’d love them, too.”

And he feels it, deep in his heart, in his soul, he’s got everything he should have in his life. It’s full. He smiles. 

Jin and Tae have a bully problem. Namjoon is too keen to let it go unnoticed. Tae often comes home hungry because his lunch is stolen. Jin doesn’t have a mark on his handsome face, but the way he favors his ribs sometimes, or the flinch he can’t help when someone, namely Namjoon, gets too close. They’ve both lost homework, or had “extra” homework. Namjoon won’t stand for it. He calmly gets the truth out of them, and despite their protestations that he’ll only make things worse, calls the school for a meeting. 

Suga—his street name, but the only one he’ll respond to—is a scrawny kid two years older than Namjoon’s boys, but in the same grade. He dresses like a thug, and talks like one too. He sits in the chair in the principal’s office like he doesn’t care. About anything. 

“What’s your problem,  _ old man, _ ” he spits. 

Namjoon suppresses a chuckle. Old man. It’s supposed to be an insult, but this kid has no idea how proud he is of his silvering hair, his wrinkles, his years. He has done much, seen much, and loved much. There is no shame in being called exactly what he is. “I don’t have a problem, you do.”

Suga scoffs, rolling his eyes as he turns his head to stare out the window. 

“Your problem is you’ve been bullying my kids.” He leans forward, elbows on his knees, hand clasped under his chin. “And you need to tell me how you’re gonna make it right.”

“Or what?”

“Or we sit here until you give me an answer. My boys can look after themselves for a bit; I’ve got all night.”

“Mr. Kim,” the principal interjects, “we can’t hold students—“

“Yes, true,” Namjoon agrees. “I guess I’ll have to speak with your mother, then.”

Suga’s whole body tenses almost imperceptibly for a fraction of a second, but Namjoon is keen, and he sees it. “Gotta find the bitch first,” Suga retorts. 

“You live with your father, then?”

“He’s dead.” 

Dead as the expression on this young boy’s face as he utters the words. Everything clicks into place for Namjoon then. 

“Well, then I guess it really is just you and me.”

The principal, Jin, and Tae are all shocked when Namjoon invites Suga over for dinner, but no one is more surprised than Suga himself. 

“My boys’ll cook. Let’s take a walk.”

Suga doesn’t know why he follows the old man down to the beach, or why he doesn’t just take off running. Run and never look back. He expects anger and self-righteous bullshit that adults are always spouting, maybe even pity or a false offer of concern. But Namjoon doesn’t give him any of that. They just walk in silence for a good fifteen minutes before he can’t take it anymore.

“I don’t need a new dad.”

“Oh, well that’s good,” Namjoon sighs in relief. “I’m not here to be your dad.”

“Then what the hell do you want? Why’d you bring me here?”

“I told you: you’ve been bullying my kids. I won’t tolerate that. How do you plan to make it right?”

“You keep saying that,” Suga sneers angrily. “‘Your boys’. They’re not though. The fuck do you care about a couple of idiots that aren’t really your kids?”

“But they are my kids,” Namjoon assures. “The adoption went through just before the new school year started. They’re both Kims now. My sons.”

“Adopted?” He says the word reverently, in a whisper, like anything more will scare it off. “Why would you do that?”

“They needed a family, and I needed my family to be bigger,” Namjoon explains. “Now my daughter has two brothers, and her sons have uncles. And I have my boys.”

“Daughter? You’ve got other kids?”

“Just the one,” he says. “And her husband, too, I suppose. Known him since he was your age,” he laughs. “Guess I kinda raised him a little, too.”

“You just… care? About people you don’t know?” Suga is incredulous. This is the most far-fetched idea he’s ever heard of. 

“Yeah,” Namjoon answers simply. “I guess I do.”

After another fifteen minutes, Teddy comes bounding over, almost knocking Suga to the ground. He would have, if Namjoon hadn’t stepped in to shield him, taking the brunt of the dog’s massive paws to his chest with a soft ‘oof’. Namjoon says that dinner must be ready, and they begin their walk back to the house. Jin and Tae are polite, but reserved, as they eat with Suga who quietly scowls through the entire meal. Namjoon asks Tae about his art project, and how Jin’s game is coming along in his programming class. He recruits Suga to help him wash up while the boys do their homework. Suga looks over into the living room every few minutes as the sound of the two boys’ affection makes its way to them. 

“This isn’t real,” he says as Namjoon puts the last of the dishes away in the cupboard. “There’s no way this can be real.”

“Very real,” Namjoon answers. He can see the wheels turning in the young man’s mind, the longing in his eyes. The fear. “Why don’t you come back for dinner again tomorrow?”

“Reall—I mean, why?”

“You still haven’t given me an answer.”

After Suga has left and the boys have finished their homework, after they’ve brushed their teeth and had their showers, Namjoon sits them down at the table with an important discussion. 

“You’re part of this family, so I don’t want to make this decision without you.”

“But he’s mean,” Tae laments. 

“And disrespectful,” Jin adds. 

Namjoon nods, listening carefully to their feedback. By the end of the night, when it’s time for bed, they’ve reached a unanimous decision. 

When Suga comes back the next day, Namjoon takes him out for a walk along the beach again. 

“Don’t you ever cook?”

“Me?” Namjoon laughs. “Not if they have anything to say about it. No, no. I stay out of the kitchen as much as possible. Trust me, it’s best for everyone.”

Suga grunts, stuffing his hands in his pockets. It takes him a minute to pluck up his courage, but finally he says, “I’ve been thinking about your question; how to make things right—“

“I’m glad,” Namjoon interrupts. “But before you tell me, I have a different question. And I need an honest answer, ok?” The young man nods. “If we offered you a place in our house, in our family, would you take it and make the best of it?”

“What!?”

“I need to know.”

“What the hell—?”

“Would you try to be a part of our family, or would you throw it away? I could handle it, but Tae and Jin… they deserve better.”

“Your family? Me?”

“We discussed it last night,” Namjoon says. “And we all agreed. If we didn’t, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. But we all agreed. If you want it, you have a place here, with us. If you don’t, that’s ok, too. We can have a nice meal, and you can go on your way—of course you wouldn’t be bullying Tae and Jin anymore—no hard feelings.”

Suga looks out at the ocean. “But why?”

“I thought my family was complete,” he answers. “But I think it needs just one more.”

“I told you I didn’t need a new dad,” Suga says, his voice hard. 

“I’m not saying you do. But I think you could benefit from some brothers.”

Namjoon watches as Tae and Jin help Suga move into his room. The boy didn’t have much in the way of belongings, just a few boxes. The four of them had gone together to pick out some furniture, Suga scowling the whole time despite being incredibly grateful. He cries his first night there, in his new bed, new sheets, new pajamas. He tries to stay silent, but somehow Namjoon knows. Suga can hear him shuffling in the hall outside his room, and he tries to choke off his tears, not wanting to get caught crying, like some lame wimp. 

Tears are not something Namjoon is afraid of, though, having shed many himself and sat with his daughter’s tears over her hurts through the decades. 

It’s 3am when Suga hears Namjoon outside his door again. He both does and doesn’t want him to come in, and isn’t sure if likes the feeling of relief when the door opens slowly. 

“What do you want, old man?” His voice isn’t as hard as he wants it to be, thick from crying and wavering with emotion. He tried to scowl as Namjoon comes to his bedside, but his face only contorts into something that allows the tears to come harder. 

“You’ve been at it awhile,” Namjoon says gently, “and I wondered if you wanted some company.”

“No,” Suga spits back hastily. “Go away.”

“Alright.” Namjoon pats his shoulder before walking back to the door. 

“Wait.”

And Namjoon would stop, and turn, patience and love etched into his countenance, as Suga fumbles for a few minutes before finally telling him maybe he could stay, but just for a bit. He would sit on the edge of the bed, and reach a hand to the boy. It wouldn’t take long for Suga to find himself in Namjoon’s arms crying onto his shoulder. 

“You’re gonna be ok, son,” he would say.

When all Suga’s tears were finally spent, Namjoon would stand and hold out his hand. “Let’s take a walk.”

Just like years before, they would walk along the beach in the early dawn, and Namjoon would breathe in the sea air, letting the memories flood in. Memories of his wife, love of his life, and Hannah, joy of his soul, and newer ones with Tae and Jin, and now this boy who desperately needed a family. This boy, who was his family. And Namjoon would murmur to Suga about walking along this beach with his daughter after his wife died, when they couldn’t cry anymore and the grief was too much. 

The two would stand and watch the sun rising from the horizon, comfortable silence settling over them, until Suga spoke. 

“I still don’t understand it,” he’d say, “but thanks, old man.”

Namjoon would take his old, wrinkly hand and settle it heavily on Suga’s shoulder, squeezing affectionately. “All you need to understand, son, is that you belong here. Now get in there and help your brothers with breakfast.”

New tears would threaten in Suga’s eyes then. Brothers. He’d never had brothers before. 

It would take a few months, but one day, Suga would slip up. Namjoon would ask him to do something, and Suga would respond “ok, dad.”

Namjoon wouldn’t make a big deal about it, but his heart would swell and he’d smile at his boys, his sons, and silently thank his wife for everything. For getting sick, for moving him to this house, giving him the space in his heart to love greatly. 


End file.
